And Then I Saw You
by hughie87
Summary: When Felicity Smoak's mother marries a detective from Starling City, Felicity finds her life thrown into chaos. And that was only the beginning; because her life was about to change in ways she could never imagine.
1. Chapter 1

**_PROLOGUE_**

**_SEPTEMBER, 2004 – LAS VEGAS, NEVADA._**

_Sweat trickled down the back of Felicity's neck as she trudged up the outdoor staircase to the 3__rd__ floor apartment she shared with her mother, Donna, just off the Vegas Strip. Felicity reached up and pushed her long, thick, black hair off her shoulders; wishing she'd worn it in the ponytail her mother always nagged her to. "You have such a pretty face, Felicity! Let people see it!" Donna Smoak would coo from the doorway of the bathroom the mother and daughter shared as Felicity applied heavy eye make-up. Instead, she would make a sound of disgust in the back of her throat, roll her eyes and pull even more hair down around her face. She smirked as she remembered the expression her mother had when she put the new purple streaks in last weekend. Donna had tried to be cool, but Felicity could tell her mother was about to shoot out of the sky-high heels she wore. Felicity honestly didn't understand why her mother tried. Donna always said she didn't want Felicity to end up like her; a minimum wage cocktail waitress killing herself in back-breaking heels relying on her wavy blonde tresses and long legs to earn enough tips for the bills that month. Well, Donna could breathe easily, Felicity thought. She wasn't __**anything**__ like her mother and that started with her appearance. _

_With a relieved sigh, she reached the top of the stairs. She planted her feet on the balcony that ran the length of one of the sides of the building. Her apartment was just around the corner. Adjusting the weight of her laptop in her backpack, Felicity took long strides down the balcony; ready to meet the air conditioning in the apartment. Most days it was stifling since the superintendent wouldn't fix the damn thing until it broke down completely, but at least the small suite of rooms was only 80-something degrees instead of the 100-something outside. Felicity dug around in the pocket of her baggy jeans for her door key, finding it rolling around with her burgundy colored lip-gloss and some loose change for the vending machines at school. She swung around the corner and inserted the key into the lock; jiggling and nursing the stubborn lock open. Swiveling her hips, she popped the door open with her right one and fell inside. With a huff, she dropped her school bag gently to the floor, glaring at the lock as she pushed the door shut. Another thing the super refused to fix._

_"__Mom?" Felicity called out. Donna had mentioned possibly picking up an extra shift at the lounge this evening. Felicity shrugged. Seemed dinner was on her, tonight. She called out one more time. "Mo-om? Are you here?" She opened the fridge and pulled out a cold bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and brought the opening to her lips for a long swig. Kicking the door closed, Felicity walked out of the kitchen and into the small room that was their living and dining room combined. "You sure you're not here, mom? Because I plan on dancing around the apartment in my underwear and that does not include – __**watching my mother making out with a total stranger!**__"_ _Felicity screamed as she stumbled upon her mother and a man she'd never seen before kissing heatedly on the love seat under the window. She slapped a hand over her eyes when she was sure she'd also spied some evidence of some heavy petting._

_"__Felicity, honey, you're home!" Donna exclaimed brightly, hauling up the straps of her dress and shooting the man seated on the couch a sheepish grin. He returned it, the tips of his ear turning slightly red. _

_"__No! No, not home. Just… a figment of your imagination. Just as __**this**_ _is a figment of my imagination otherwise I am going to need __**so**_ _much therapy!" Felicity rambled as she retreated, hand still over her eyes. She squealed when her back hit the opposite wall. She scooted over, trying to find the entrance to the kitchen and her getaway exit._

_"__Felicity, take your hand from over your eyes," Donna ordered._

_Felicity shook her head. "I'm good. I've been thinking of trying this out. Makes somewhat of a societal statement, don't you think? You know, see no evil, do no evil?" _

**_"_****_Felicity," _**_Donna said sternly. _

_Felicity swallowed and lowered her hand a fraction. "Is it over?" She asked timidly._

_Donna lunged forward and grabbed Felicity by the arm. "Sweetie, there is someone I want you to meet."_

_"__Really?" Felicity muttered. "I would have assumed you would have introduced me __**before **__the tonsil hockey tournament. __**Ow!"**_

_"__Please be nice," Donna hissed on the twinge of her pinch to Felicity's backside. She led Felicity over to the man who'd stood from the couch, fidgeting with his collar nervously. He was tall and handsome in a craggy sort of way, his hair cropped close to his skull but still thick and luscious. He smiled at Felicity and Felicity couldn't help herself from smiling back._

_"__Felicity, I would like you to meet Detective Quentin Lance," Donna announced proudly, standing beside the slender man, as if she was showing off a trophy from her latest hunting trip. "He's here investigating a __**murder, **__all the way from Starling City!"_

_Lance reached forward, holding out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Felicity," he supplied as he shook her hand enthusiastically. He had a northern accent, his words short and clipped. "Your mom here has been telling me all about you. Sounds like you're a real good student. Good with computers and all that."_

_"__I'm flattered," Felicity replied, casting a look at her mother. "Normally, I don't even rate a mention with her conquests. You must be special!"_

**_"_****_Felicity!" _**_Donna sputtered once more, her pretty blue eyes going wide._

_Quentin held up his hand, his smile still easy and natural. "It's okay, Donna. I have a daughter around her age, too, remember?" Quentin turned back to Felicity. "Me and your mom were planning on grabbing a bite to eat. We were hoping you'd like to join us."_

_Felicity could see her mother slightly behind the Detective, nodded vigorously with a bright smile. She narrowed her eyes at her mother; something seemed too 'Gidget' for her._

_"__Gee," Felicity began, smiling sweetly with her deep dimples on display. "I would love to, but the image of you and my mother sucking faces has permanently killed my appetite."_

_"__Fair enough." Lance reached behind him and took Donna's hand, grasping it lightly. "We'll leave you to your dancing then." _

_Felicity felt a blush suffuse her cheeks as the man led her mother out of the apartment and ducked back in, waving at her before closing the door. Pressing a hand to her temple, Felicity shuffled to her room._

_"__I think I am having a stroke brought on by massive mortification," she muttered as she went. _

**_SEPTEMBER, 2004 – STARLING CITY, CALIFORNIA._**

_"__Oliver!" Laurel emitted a shrill giggle. She thrashed on the bed with Oliver poised over her, tickling her breathless._

_"__Say it! Say you like my goatee or I will continue the tickle torture!" Oliver crowed, tightening his thighs around his girlfriend's hips to ensure she didn't escape._

_Laurel thrashed some more and then stilled, giving Oliver a mock glare. "Never! I will __**never **__say it!" She cried, fighting back a grin._

_Oliver pressed his lips together, tossing his hair out of his face. "Then you've chosen your doom." He fell on Laurel, running his hands determinedly all along her sides and down her legs. _

_Laurel caught onto his direction and began kicking out in earnest. "Oliver, no! No, Oliver, no! Not my feet. __**Not my feet!"**_

_Oliver crouched at the end of her bed, her ankles imprisoned in his hands. "You know what to do," Oliver informed her, smiling with mischievousness to his gaze._

_"__I can't!" Laurel still giggled, unrelenting._

_Oliver shrugged. "You have no one to blame but yourself." He yanked off a sock and attacked Laurel's foot with a vengeance._

_"__Okay! Okay! I give! I give! I __**love **__your goatee! I __**love **__it!" Laurel finally screamed, her face red from laughter and her chest heaving from her struggles._

_Oliver halted his movements, pushing her jean clad leg over to the side and looking at her intensely. "Will you stroke it?"_

_Laurel's eyebrows went up. "You have some really weird fantasies, Ollie."_

_"__Do you really think it looks funny?" Oliver asked seriously, releasing her leg and crawling up beside her once again on the double bed; lying down on his stomach and resting his chin in his hand._

_Turning over on her side, Laurel gazed at him. Her mouth quirked up in a smile. She reached out and lightly ran a finger against the slight stubble he'd let grow along his strong chin. Oliver faced her, placing a hand on her hip, the air in the room losing its playful mood._

_"__I like it if you like it," Laurel whispered sweetly. _

_Oliver grinned, leaning in to meet her lips. Over to the side on a nightstand, Laurel's phone chimed happily. Oliver growled when Laurel made to reach for it._

_"__It could be my Dad! Do you want him to surprise us like he did __**last**__ time?" Laurel reminded him with a chuckle._

_"__Answer your stupid phone," Oliver ordered, releasing Laurel to roll over and grab her phone. She jumped up and waved the screen at him, showing him the identity of the caller was indeed Detective Lance._

_"__Hi, Daddy," Laurel answered, stepping over by her dresser._

_Oliver rolled over onto his back, looking up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan. He listened to Laurel's end of what seemed a benign conversation between her and her father. With Lance in Vegas on the trail of a murder suspect from Starling, he and Laurel had had unlimited freedom out from under the man's prejudiced nose. And if Oliver was being honest, some of the thrill was gone. He liked Laurel; hell, he probably loved her, but there was something. Something pushing him and making his legs itch; something screaming at him to get out. They'd only been together exclusively for a few months and already Oliver felt trapped. He was only 19. It didn't make sense for him to feel trapped, did it? He sat up abruptly, needing some air. _

_Laurel plopped back on the bed, tossing her phone up toward the headboard. "Case is almost wrapped up," Laurel began. "Dad says he should be home in another week or so. And he says he has a surprise for me. Do you think he won at the slots or something?" She asked with a laugh._

_Oliver turned his head to look at her. "Maybe," he replied._

_Laurel's brows furrowed. "Hey, are you okay?" She reached out and caressed the back of his neck, pulling him to face her._

_"__Yeah," Oliver reassured. He nodded forcefully. "Yeah, I'm fine. Hey, are you coming to Tommy's party tonight?"_

_Laurel noticed the change of subject but disregarded it. She sighed and looked over at her desk which was hidden under books and loose-leaf notebook paper. She looked back at Oliver. "I would, but I have got to get my outline done for my Sociology paper."_

_"__Come on, Laurel," Oliver needled. "Your dad is out of town; Mr. Merlyn finally lifted Tommy's ban to his trust fund. This party is gonna be killer."_

_"__Yeah," Laurel responded. "And it will __**kill **__my semester grade."_

_"__It's not like you can't blow off one paper," Oliver told her, a little annoyed at her reluctance to drop her studies and come to the party with him which could be the last one before her father returned and put her back under surveillance._

_"__You know, not all of us can afford to party our way through college," Laurel admonished him. "Some of us actually have to __**work **__to stay there."_

_"__And you don't think planning this party with Tommy wasn't __**work?"**__ Oliver retorted, ignoring the reprimand._

_Laurel eyed him, tucking some brown hair behind her ear. "Oliver, if you cracked a book you may find college is a lot easier than you think. Unless, it is your __**goal**__ to get kicked out of all the top ten state schools."_

_"__Guess it's a good thing I'm rich and pretty, don't you think?" Oliver smiled brightly._

_Laurel rolled her eyes before leaning over to kiss her pretty, rich boyfriend. _


	2. Chapter 2

**_CHAPTER ONE_**

**_JUNE, 2005 – STARLING CITY AIRPORT_**

The airplane hit the tarmac with a tiny shudder. Felicity gripped the arm rests tightly in her hands, her knuckles turning white. When the ride smoothed out, she opened her eyes and released the breath she had been holding. Well, here she was. She couldn't **_believe_** this was happening to her. Skirting her eyes to glance at her mother, Felicity groaned at the barely leashed excitement apparent on her face. With a huff, she reclined back against the seat. Maybe if she refused to get off the plane, they would be forced to take her back. She looked again at her mother. What mother did this to her child? The daughter she claimed to **_love_** so much? Uprooting her from her home, her friends, her family (albeit a small one) and depositing her in a new city, a new school with a bright, new shiny family that she couldn't stand? If her mother really loved her, she would have left her in Vegas to finish out her high school career while staying with her best friend Kelsey.

With a screeching halt, the plane finally stopped and the seat belt sign blinked off. The cabin was alive with the buzz of conversation between flight attendants and passengers and above it all, the drone of the pilot thanking for flying and to enjoy their stay in Starling. **_Not very likely,_** Felicity thought bitterly. Donna popped up from her seat, making short work of hers and Felicity's carry-ons. The rest of their things had been sent ahead. She handed Felicity her small suitcase and then watched her daughter expectantly. When Felicity made no move, Donna's mouth hardened.

"Felicity, come on, honey," Donna began lightly. "It's time to get off the plane."

Felicity rolled her head over and looked at her mother from behind the thick, dark purple sunglasses she had donned for the trip.

Donna's smile got bigger and more plastered. "**_Felicity_**_, _the plane has landed. We need to get off."

A line of frustrated passengers trying to depart was forming behind Donna, their sighs and grumbles becoming ever more discernible to the human ear. Felicity stayed where she was. Maybe her plan would actually work. They could back to Vegas, to their crummy little apartment and pretend none of this had happened.

A flight attendant sauntered back to their row to see what the delay was about. "Excuse me, is there something wrong?" He asked with forced cheeriness.

Donna swallowed and continued looking at Felicity. "No, we're just fine, thank you. It seems my daughter has forgotten the use of her legs."

Felicity smirked at her mother's retort. **_Nice one, Mom._**

"Well, until she remembers how to use them, maybe you could let these people pass?" He suggested condescendingly.

With a snort of disgust, Donna ducked back into her seat and sat down.

**_"_****_Look,"_** Donna began quietly as people filed past them, some slowing down just enough to glare at them as they passed. "I know you are not happy with me for this. But maybe, instead of focusing on all you had to leave behind, why don't you try focusing on all you're coming to, hmm?" She lifted a hand and brushed Felicity's hair lovingly.

"Like what?" Felicity replied, meeting her mother's eyes from behind the dark glasses before pushing them up on her head. "A new city with no friends and a senior year in a new high school?"

"No," Donna responded, her patience starting to wear. "Like a new house in a nice neighborhood and a nicer school with more opportunities than you had in Vegas. Like Quentin and Laurel welcoming us into their home and their lives –"

"Oh, please!" Felicity erupted angrily. She shot up from her seat and tumbled over her mother and into the aisle, pushing people aside as she went. She might not want to be in Starling, but she wanted to hear her mother's gratitude speech even less. As if she should owe Detective Quentin Lance a damn thing! He was the reason she was here! Why should she thank him for that?

Felicity could hear her mother calling her as she stormed ahead and didn't slow down. A claw-like grip latched onto her arm and yanked her around to face her mother. Felicity's eyes widened at the fury she saw there. Her mother was usually very easy going to the point Felicity even wondered if she really cared sometimes. Looking into her snapping blue eyes, she wondered if this time she had finally pushed too far.

**_"_****_Felicity Meghan Smoak,"_** Donna growled as she clutched her daughter tightly. She glanced over and saw the last remaining passengers and flight attendants watching them with curiosity. Her gaze came back to her daughter. "We are leaving this plane in a polite fashion. Now, **_march_**_."_ And with that stern command and without letting go of Felicity's arm, mother and daughter left the plane side by side.

Neither of them spoke as they exited the plane and made their way through the terminal. Donna also did not release Felicity's arm, either. They left the terminal and were immediately swallowed up by the hustle of people outside the gate.

"What?" Felicity snorted. "You mean Detective Lance isn't here to meet his blushing bride?"

"Despite what you think," Donna started quietly as she weaved them toward baggage claim. "I am not doing any of this to punish you in some way."

"Really? Sure feels like it," Felicity replied snottily.

"You know, Felicity, since your dad left us –"

"He didn't leave **_us_**_, _mother; he left **_you_**_," _Felicity interjected hotly.

They had reached the baggage carousel and waited silently as many bags that were not theirs traveled past them.

Finally, Donna spoke with careful control from beside Felicity. "I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but unless you've heard from the man in the past 10 years since he left, I'm guessing you're not going to."

Felicity opened her mouth to reply but was quickly quieted when her mother took her by the shoulders and looked her deep in the eye.

"No matter how long we stay in Vegas, he is **_never_** coming back. We can sit in that little, broken-down apartment until we are both old and gray and he will **_never_** come back. Felicity, I waited for years for him to come back until I realized he was **_gone_**_. _You can be mad at me all you want, but honey, you have to accept your father is not coming back to get you. You can't keep waiting for him to waltz back in and make everything right again," Donna finished gently, reaching out to wipe away the tear that was traveling down Felicity's cheek toward her trembling mouth.

Felicity nodded, her mouth turning down in a small apology. She spied their bags and grabbed all of them, slinging her mom's bags onto her shoulder and taking charge of the rolling case. Donna breathed deeply. When Felicity had been a little girl, she didn't see the harm of letting Felicity believe Marcus would eventually return. It wasn't until she and Quentin has gotten serious that Donna realized just how much Felicity had expected and yearned for her father's return.

As they walked along, Donna wrapped an arm around Felicity's narrow shoulders and to her delight, Felicity didn't shrug it off.

"What do you say we take the day for sight-seeing? Does that sound good to you?" Donna asked.

"Really?" Felicity asked, looking at her mother. "You don't have any plans with Quentin?"

"Why don't I tell him that you and I need a day to settle in? We'll go check into a fancy hotel, eat really rich food and see what Starling City has to offer."

Felicity nodded eagerly. "I'd like that."

Donna leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Felicity's cheek. "I love you, baby."

"Geez, mom," Felicity replied, rolling her eyes even as a small smile played at the corner of her lips.

* * *

><p>Laurel sat curled in the recliner positioned by the electric fireplace which was currently a pile of ash, the last fire lit being back in March. She watched her father closely as he spoke on the telephone, his face full of disappointment but his voice sounding completely the opposite.<p>

"Nah, I am sure! It sounds like you and Felicity need some time. We'll get together tomorrow," Lance paused and then his face split in a smile Laurel hadn't seen in a few years. It sent sharp pain through her heart. "Love you, too. Yeah, tomorrow."

Lance pulled the cordless phone away from his ear and disconnected the call, walking across the kitchen to replace it in its cradle. He came back to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, looking down at the ingredients for his famous Chicken Masala.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me for dinner tonight, kiddo," Lance informed Laurel as he looked up from his task of chopping mushrooms.

"Don't get too excited, Dad," Laurel sarcastically replied as she pushed herself out of the recliner and came over, perching on one of the bar stools. "It's such a shame your stripper friend can't make it for dinner tonight."

Lance's face snapped up, his mouth set in a thin line and his eyes dark with anger. "She's not a stripper, Laurel. I thought I made that clear."

"Sorry, Dad," Laurel replied off-handedly, sliding off the stool and wandering into the kitchen; heading for the fridge and a glass of orange juice. "I just always assume the women who work out there in heels and short skirts are strippers."

There was a clatter as Lance tossed the knife and cutting board into the sink before turning to face Laurel in the small kitchen. He shook his head. "What is with you, Laurel? I didn't raise you to be like this."

"You're right, Dad," Laurel replied. "You_**didn't**_ raise me. **_Mom_** did. You remember her? **_She_** raised me while you were out chasing the bad guys."

"Of course, I remember your mother," Lance said softly. "I loved her and I miss her every day."

"Do you? Because you don't seem to," Laurel choked out, tears filling her eyes. "She's only been gone four years! And you're about to marry some woman you barely know!"

"Laurel, baby," Lance crooned as he crossed the kitchen to pull his daughter into his arms. "Just because I am marrying Donna doesn't mean I love your mother any less."

"But it's only been four years." Laurel's voice was muffled as she sniffled against her father's shoulder. "You and mom were together when you were my age. How can you be ready to move in only four years?"

Lance pressed a kiss to Laurel's forehead before pulling away so he could see her face. "Loving another person, it doesn't take up any more room. In fact, it makes things bigger. Honey, your mother would not want me, or you, to still be mourning her. She'd want us to move on."

"I'm just not ready for you to let her go," Laurel mumbled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I am not letting your mother go, sweetie," Lance replied. "I could never do that. It's just… It's lonely around here, Laurel. With you away at school, the place just gets really quiet. And I am tired of coming home to an empty house night after night."

Laurel looked up at her father. "Couldn't we just get you a puppy?"

Lance chuckled. "The thing is, what I had with your mother was amazing. I will never have that again. But I could have something different with someone else. And I am ready for that."

"But I'm not," Laurel whispered.

"Laurel," Lance began seriously. "I don't expect you to accept my choices, but I do expect you to respect them. Can I count on you for that?"

Laurel stepped away from Quentin and shrugged. "I've got some research to do for a course project. I'll be back down for some dinner later."

Lance watched his daughter head up the staircase to her old room she'd grown up in. He rubbed his hands over his face before going back to preparing dinner. He understood his daughter's reticence to accept the new woman in his life, but what was he to do? It was time they moved on; both of them. No one could live a full life if they were mourning the life they no longer had.

* * *

><p>Upstairs, Laurel shut her door quietly instead of slamming it like she felt. Crossing the room, she flipped on her stereo and turned up the rock station she kept it on, the bass vibrations of the music thumping against the walls. Anything to drown out her father's words! How could he ask this of her? It was like he was asking her to bury her mother all over again! How did he expect her to respect another woman cooking where her mother cooked? Reading in the overstuffed chair in the den as the sun set like her mother had? Sleeping where her mother had slept?<p>

The tears that had threatened in the kitchen spilled over and Laurel buried her face in her hands as she sank to the floor. When the tears stemmed, she came up on her knees and crawled over to her purse, digging out her cell phone. She dialed a familiar number and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Laurel smiled as she heard Oliver's low, dulcet voice.

"Over at Dad's. I just wanted to call."

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked.

Laurel's mouth flattened into a line, tears close again at the concern she heard in Oliver's voice. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Ollie, I know you're not big on family things, but I really need you. Could you come to Starling tomorrow?"

"What's wrong?"

"Everything is fine," Laurel rushed to assure him. "But I'm **_not_**_. _I can't do this, Ollie. It's like he's replacing her! How could he replace her?"

"Today was the big meet-and-greet, wasn't it?"

"No," Laurel groaned. "She called and said she and her brat needed to get settled. So, we're doing it tomorrow. Look, Oliver, I know you and my Dad don't always see eye to eye, but I need someone on my side. I don't think I can go through this alone."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Oliver?" Laurel called when it continued.

"I can't," Oliver finally answered tentatively.

"Oh," Laurel replied, fresh moisture in her eyes. "Okay. I –"

"It's my Dad. He says if he doesn't see me apply myself here, he's going to send me to military school. I can't go to military school. I wouldn't make it. I don't follow orders. At all," he ended on a teasing note.

Laurel nodded. "I understand. They'd probably make you shave that silly goatee you spent so much time cultivating, too."

The two shared a quiet laugh before the silence descended again.

"You can do this. You are the strongest, most accepting and forgiving person I know. If anyone can welcome a new person into their lives, it's you."

Laurel sighed.

"I'll call you later. We can make plans for summer vacation."

"Sure. Hey, why are you whispering?"

Oliver cleared his throat. "I'm in the library."

Laurel snorted. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Oliver replied indignantly. "My dad was very convincing about the military school thing."

"Oliver Queen in a library for something other than making out. I'm impressed."

"Well, you should be," Oliver paused. "I'm sorry I can't make it out."

"Just talking to you makes it better. I love you, Ollie."

"Me, too."

The phone went dead and Oliver blew out a breath. He sat on the edge of his bed in his dorm room, placing the phone on the nightstand close by.

"Who was that?" A sleepy voice muttered from behind him.

Oliver turned to look at the petite redhead cuddled in his bed, the late afternoon sun sneaking past some blinds. He slapped a smile on his face, shaking his head.

"No one," Oliver replied.

The girl shrugged, catching that Oliver wasn't going to give her a truthful answer anyway. Throwing his legs up, Oliver reclined back onto his narrow bed, arms behind his head as he contemplated the ceiling. A pale, slender arm came up and over his stomach, fingers tapping on his ribs. Oliver didn't acknowledge it.

"Didn't you have a class soon?" He reminded subtly.

The girl next to him sighed. He saw her roll her eyes as she gazed him.

"Can I at least use your shower?"

Oliver ignored the caustic tone of her request. He turned his head and turned on that bright smile that weakened so many knees. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

"Gee, thanks," the redhead sneered. She threw the covers off and alighted from the bed, snatching her clothes from the floor around the room before prancing to the bathroom, slamming the door.

Clenching his jaw, Oliver got up himself. Yanking open drawers, he pulled out a fresh change of clothes for himself. He didn't understand why he did this. Laurel needed him and he couldn't face her; instead, he would hide here until the stain if his newest tryst was gone from him. Flopping back on the bed fully clothed, he waited for the girl whose name escaped him to finish showering so he could make good on his word and go to the library as he'd told Laurel. He'd do better, he would. Laurel deserved better. Oliver swallowed when the thought swam up from somewhere deep that maybe… That wasn't him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>JULY, 2005 – STARLING CITY HALL<em>**

"How are things looking from there?" Quentin asked his soon-to-be-bride as she stood peeking around the doorframe that looked into the cozy room located in the city hall building normally used for small wedding ceremonies such as theirs.

Donna looked at him over her shoulder, her long blonde hair swept up into an abundant and elegant French twist at the base of her skull. The corners of her mouth turned downward as she faced him.

"They haven't spoken two words to each other," Donna answered sadly. Both she and Quentin approached the doorway and gazed at their daughters. "I was really hoping things would be different."

Felicity and Laurel stood in matching dove gray dresses; sleeveless and ending just above their knees, in a flowing chiffon fabric. They each wore silver, open-toed sandals and carried a gathering of peach carnations. The girls' dark hair was styled to match Donna's in a French twist. They looked lovely. If only their expressions matched their physical appearance. The stood on separate sides, heads turned away from each other.

Pushing away from the door, Donna, dressed in a peach colored frock similar to Felicity's and Laurel's, she crossed her arms.

"How can we do this to them, Quentin?" Donna asked him sadly. She gestured with an outstretched hand to their two teenage daughters in the other room. "They are so unhappy!"

Quentin stepped forward, putting his hands atop Donna's shoulders and pulled into his arms. "And what about us, Donna?" He pulled away and looked down at the woman in his arms. "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Do you want that?"

"I do, but –"

"Then that's that," Quentin said simply. "Laurel is an adult and Felicity is just a little behind her. Soon, they will both be making their own choices, just like we are. They may be unhappy now, but in time, they'll move on."

"Maybe Laurel was right. Your wife has only been gone for a few years," Donna said absently, recalling the shrill accusation flung at them by a hysterical Laurel as she threw her napkin on the table and stomped from the room on the eve of their first official family dinner. Felicity hadn't behaved much better. She'd sat sullenly across from Quentin, barely acknowledging anyone's presence and only answering any questions in monosyllabic responses. When Laurel had stalked from the table and flew up the stairs, slamming the door, Felicity had slowly pushed back her chair. Looking at Quentin with a cold stare, she'd announced he would **_never_** be her father and had left the table, too, leaving Donna and Quentin alone with uneaten food and an uncomfortable silence.

"Hey," Quentin replied, tilting Donna's chin up with his index finger. "Dinah and I had a happy marriage and I will always be grateful for the years I had with her. I had my chance to say my goodbyes. I am ready to start the next chapter of my life. And that chapter begins with you."

Donna smiled sweetly. "I'm glad you chose me."

Quentin laughed. "If anyone needs to be glad, it's me. Not every woman is patient to put up with an old hound like myself."

Donna laid her hands on either weathered cheek of the seasoned Detective and pulled him down for a kiss. Upon release, she took his hands in hers. "Let's make this official."

"'Bout damn time!" Lance crowed. He cued his partner, Lucas Hilton, who hit the 'play' button on a small stereo they'd brought in.

When the strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D filtered out of the speakers, Lance offered his arm. Donna snatched the small bouquet of white carnations from a near-by chair and then tucked a small hand into Lance's elbow. Opening the door wider, the couple sailed into the small chamber. As they walked down the aisle, they smiled only at each other, missing the horrified faces on each daughter.

It wasn't until Donna and Quentin arrived in front of the justice of the peace performing the marriage rites that Felicity and Laurel realized the gravity of what was happening. Their tantrums, their freezing looks, their obstinate attitudes had all be in vain. Their parents were standing together, united and about to become one. Like it or not, Laurel Lance and Felicity Smoak were about to become sisters.

* * *

><p><strong><em>SEPTEMBER, 2005 – THE GRIND &amp; JOLT CAFÉ, STARLING CITY<em>**

Oliver stood on the sidewalk and looked inside the windows of the coffee shop. He spotted his best friend, Tommy Merlyn, sitting in a corner booth, his head buried in the Starling City Sentinel. No doubt Tommy was checking the sport scores for his next underground gambling ring, Oliver deduced with a grin. He meandered inside and weaved toward the booth, shooting his dazzling smile to a few female patrons. The women recognized the charming Oliver Queen and twittered behind hands as he passed; their hearts racing from his star-watt smile. He slid into the booth across from time, lounging against the booth.

Tommy lowered the paper. His eyes crinkled in an unseen smile as he looked at Oliver. "All hail the conquering Berkley hero. I am assuming your presence here means you passed the semester?"

"In a way," Oliver replied, his mouth lifting at one side. "Depends on what you call "passing".'

Tommy shook his head as he folded the paper and laid it on the table next to him. "So what is your story this time?"

"What story?" Oliver asked innocently. "There is no story. I say I passed, but the school may see things differently. Tell me," Oliver leaned forward and lowered his voice. "How long do you think it will take before the school realizes I paid someone to hack in and change my grade?"

"Classic Oliver," Tommy chuckled. "Are you planning on going back? By my calculations, you should be registering for another fall semester."

Oliver leaned back, resting an arm along the back of the booth. "Ah, well, after two summer semesters back to back, I just don't think my body can take the strain right now." Oliver gave a weak cough.

"Ouch, yeah, that cough sounds bad. You should get that looked at. Could be tuberculosis," Tommy replied, playing along with his friend's charade.

"I agree," Oliver finished. He sighed, content to be back on his familiar stomping grounds with his right-hand man. He perused the coffee shop, noticing all the high-school aged teenagers that seemed to be pouring in from the private school just around the corner. Oliver's perusal of the coffee shop stopped, his eyes zeroing in on a girl he'd never seen before in all years he and Tommy had made this their unofficial meeting place.

"Who's that?" Oliver asked, nodding toward the young woman behind the counter.

Tommy turned in the booth, looking over his shoulder. He turned back to Oliver. "That's one of the new barista's. She's been here for about a month or so."

"Really?" Oliver replied, his eyes taking in the girl's face. Her face was obscured by dark hair and dark make-up, but Oliver could tell she was pretty in an unconventional way with her uplifted nose, plump lips and deep set eyes. Her skin was creamy and as she smiled, something he could tell was very rare, her cheeks dented into dimples. She moved behind the counter quickly and efficiently in baggy cargo pants and a cut-off purple sweat jacket, revealing a taunt swatch of skin between the short top and the cargo pants that sat on her hips. "Know anything about her?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows at his friend. He cleared his throat. "No," he told Oliver. "Just when she started working here. Have you seen Laurel since you've been back?"

Oliver shook his head.

"You know her Dad got married to that woman he met in Vegas," Tommy continued.

"Yeah, I heard," Oliver said absently. He stood to leave the booth and walk to the counter. He felt a hand on his arm, holding his sleeve.

"She's not really your type, Oliver," Tommy observed.

Oliver shrugged. "I am just going to get some coffee, Tommy. Be back in a few."

Oliver sauntered up to the counter and leaned against bar, waiting patiently as the girl mixed a drink.

"Just a sec!" She called over her shoulder to him.

Tommy was right; she wasn't his type at all. She was short and curvy instead of long and lean. Not to mention, Oliver glimpsed the glint of a delicate silver hoop in one nostril, but there was something about her. Oliver couldn't explain it but he felt drawn to her in a way he'd never experienced. He watched her move, fascinated by the grace in her hands as she mixed and stirred and capped. She wiped her hands on the apron she wore around her waist as she turned to face him.

"What can I get you?"

Oliver pulled up short. "Sorry," he replied, flashing his signature grin. "I haven't even really looked."

The girl nodded, looking at him like a mental patient. "Well, just take your time, then."

"What would you recommend?" Oliver asked quickly before the girl could turn away. He caught sight of her name tag. "Felicity. Beautiful name."

"Thank you," Felicity said slowly, gazing at him warily.

"So, what would you recommend, Felicity?" Oliver tested the name on his tongue. He liked it.

"I don't drink coffee, actually. Makes me too jittery. Which is ironic, I know, given I work in a coffee shop," Felicity rambled. "How about a Vanilla Bean Mocha with Espresso? That seems to be pretty generic."

"Hit me," Oliver replied affirmatively. He sat on one of the stools and watched her get to work. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Felicity gazed at him warily again around the espresso machine. "What makes you say that?"

"I've been away at college, but this is a regular hang out for me. I would have remembered someone like you," Oliver carried on.

"Oh, yeah," Felicity cracked sarcastically. "I am sure you make it a point to get to know all your waitresses by their first names, too."

"Only the ones whose names are worth knowing," Oliver flirted smoothly.

Felicity was silent as she finished his drink, putting it in a to-go cup, though he didn't order it to go. She set it on the counter in front of him. "That'll be $5.46, please."

"You know," Oliver continued, his voice dropping to the velvety tone he used to get his way with the opposite sex. "If you ever wanna see a different side of Starling than coffee shops and hipsters, I know a few places we could go. They're not exactly always open to the public but I could pull a few strings and –"

"Okay, Casanova, let me stop you right there," Felicity interrupted, her blue eyes flashing with annoyance. "I can tell you are used to getting your flirty little way with your wide eyes and shy grin, but I have two words for you: **_Jail. Bait."_**

Oliver swallowed, his palms growing clammy.

"And my step-father's a cop, so I'd watch myself very closely if I were you," Felicity finished with a charming smile.

Laying a ten dollar bill on the counter, muttering for her to keep the change gruffly, Oliver hurried back to the booth and took refuge behind Tommy's newspaper.

"So, you strike out?" Tommy asked nonchalantly.

Oliver looked at his friend and glared. "Oh, she definitely wants me."

Tommy nodded. "Sounds like she wanted you behind bars more."

"Shut up, Merlyn!"

Tommy erupted with laughter, calling the attention of all the other customers. Oliver threw his newspaper back at him and scrambled out of the booth, walking as dignified as was possible out of the neighborhood coffee shop; Tommy right on his heels. As Oliver stepped out the door, he cast a glance behind him. The girl named Felicity was leaning over the counter, finagling with a customer's laptop. She stood erect once more and smiled pleasantly at the customer before going back to her shop duties. The smile she had bestowed upon that lucky patron had been like a direct shot of sunlight. Oliver wandered just how old she really was.

"So," Tommy clapped him on the shoulder as he steered him away and down the busy sidewalk. "Putting that **_vastly shameful_** display of awkwardness behind us, whaddya say we hit up my Dad's secret minibar he thinks I know **_nothing _**about and then hop over to Deville for some nightcaps."

"No can do, Tommy-boy," Oliver sighed. "I am having dinner at Laurel's tonight and before that I need to make an appearance at home to satisfy the parental units.

"Dinner at Laurel's? Tonight?" Tommy clarified.

"Yeah, so I gotta run. See you later?"

"Sure," Tommy smirked.

Oliver stopped, looking at his friend's strange expression. "What is that about?"

"Oh, nothing." Tommy shook his head. "Have fun tonight. We'll catch up later."

* * *

><p>Felicity opened the door to the house she and her mother had moved into with Detective Lance only a few months ago. Even though Felicity had her own room, she still felt like a guest in this home that was not her own. She opened the unlocked door and entered, dropping her bag by the door and taking a few steps into the kitchen where her mother and step-father were kissing (an all too frequent occurrence) and letting whatever was on the stovetop burn.<p>

"Do you think you two could keep the PDA down to at least a barely nauseating level while I am here, please?" Felicity gagged as she entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. The two adults broke apart and smiled sheepishly at Felicity. "Hasn't the honeymoon period ended yet?" She groused.

"Not for us, I guess," Quentin chortled as he turned back to what he was doing on the stove.

"Well, it has for me," Felicity mumbled.

"How was your day, sweetie?" Donna asked sweetly as she came to the table to snap peas into a bowl.

Felicity watched her mother for a few moments, her brows lifted. Donna was the picture of domesticity. Underneath the sweater sets and mom jeans, no one knew she used to be a skimpily-clad cocktail waitress at a gentlemen's lounge. Felicity shook her head.

"My day was great! I burned myself six times on the espresso machine at work and got hit on by some creepy old dude at work," Felicity commented.

Quentin turned around, his face hard. "How old we talking?"

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Relax, **_Pops. _**I told him I had a warden. Anyway, he was only, like, 20-something."

"Really?" Donna smiled with interest. "Was he cute?"

"Oh, gawd, Mom!" Felicity exclaimed with disgust. She stood and stalked from the kitchen. "Just keep your nose in your own love life, okay?" She spat in parting.

Felicity grabbed her bag and bounded up the stairs. She was just entering her bedroom when Laurel came out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel.

"Oh, look. The **_spawn_** is home," Laurel snarled.

Tossing her bag into her room, Felicity looked at Laurel. "I hate to tell you but that towel does **_nothing _**to distract from your narrow and pinched face. Looks like plastic surgery is really your only option."

"Whatever," Laurel replied with a roll of her eyes. "Look, my boyfriend is coming to dinner tonight. Can you and your stripper mother please try and act like you have **_some_** class tonight?"

Felicity bristled at the 'word' stripper. "She wasn't a stripper," Felicity whispered through gritted teeth.

"Could have fooled me by the fake boobs and the teased hair and drag-queen make-up. She can wear as many Martha Stewart outfits as she wants, but deep down, she's still just a common slut."

Felicity felt tears burn her eyes. "At least **_my _**mother is still **_alive_**."

Laurel's mouth snapped shut and her cheeks turned red. Her eyes matched Felicity, shining bright with unshed tears. She took a menacing step forward and Felicity fought hard not to cower.

"At least **_my _**father loved **_me_** enough to actually stick around," Laurel growled.

"What is going on up here?"

Felicity and Dinah jumped when Quentin and Donna appeared at the top of the stairs. The girls looked at each other. Felicity swallowed. She backed away before turning to her mother and step-father.

"I'm going for a walk," she said hurriedly, slipping between them and dashing the tears from her eyes as she went skipping quickly down the stairs.

"Felicity!" Donna called after her.

She didn't listen. She had to get out of the house. Yanking a sweatshirt off a hook, she pulled the door open violently and shot out only to collide with a firm body. Bouncing off, she pushed her hair out of her eyes as the other person steadied her with their hands on her shoulders.

When she came face to face with the person she'd collided with, her mouth dropped open.

"Coffee shop Casanova?!" She cried with surprise, her eyes wide.

Oliver's jaw dropped as well. **_"Jailbait?"_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_CHAPTER TWO_**

Oliver pulled his fancy sports car up to the curb outside of the Lances' two-story brick house. He had dropped by the Queen Estate but no one was there except the staff, so he'd nabbed the keys to his baby that his father had suspended him from and went for a drive. It was exhilarating to be behind the wheel again, zooming down country roads, putting the car through its paces like a fine thorough-bred horse. Soon he'd noticed the tank needed a refueling so he headed back into the city and on over to Laurel's for the dinner she'd wrangled him into upon his return. Oliver was intrigued to meet Laurel's step-mother since Laurel literally talked of nothing else; all of it unpleasant. And this brat of a daughter the woman had dragged along. He wasn't too keen on seeing Quentin Lance again, but he'd make sacrifices. Lance had never had a high opinion of him. Especially since the night before Laurel had introduced Oliver to her father, he had been busted for public indecency when he and Tommy had gotten drunk and decided to swim with the sharks at the Starling City Aquarium. They'd been completely nude and about to climb a ladder in to the tank with the police arrived. Lance had been the arresting officer. Things had been frosty between them ever since.

Climbing out of the car and stepping onto the sidewalk, Oliver walked up to the house. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it out and fluffing it at the same time. He stepped up on the porch and halted, cocking an ear closer to the door. There was the sound of yelling and a door slamming. Crinkling his brows in confusion at the odd sounds, Oliver lifted his hand to grasp the knocker. With an arm poised at the door, he was shocked when the door flew open and a girl with dark hair came shooting out and crashed into him. He kept his feet but worried the girl would fall when she bounced off his chest, he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, steadying her as she pushed her hair impatiently out of her face. Watching her closely with an amused smile he waited for her to look up to see what she had hit. When she did lift her face, his heart clenched and his eyes bulged out, threatening to pop right out of his skull.

Her dark plum-stained mouth formed a perfect 'O' as she registered who he was. "Casanova?!"

"Jailbait?!"

The two stood confusedly and peered at each other with something almost like amazement. Felicity's mouth slowly formed into a tentative smile. "What are you doing here?"

Oliver opened his mouth but snapped it shut when Laurel's voice was heard just inside the door.

"Oliver!" She came sailing out the front door, hair damp and curling about her shoulders. Her bright smile dimmed a fraction when she noticed how close Oliver and Felicity were standing, his hands on her shoulders intimately. "You're early."

"Yeah," Oliver replied, pulling his hands from Felicity's shoulders. He watched as the girl seemed to retreat into herself slightly, wrapping her arms protectively around her body. Dragging his eyes from Felicity, Oliver looked at Laurel. "Yeah, I went for a drive and just headed on over."

Laurel still looked between Oliver and Felicity with an anxious smile. "What's going on?"

"We almost had a fender-bender at the door," Oliver answered quickly. "Watch where you're going next time, kid."

Felicity's jaw clenched. And then her eyes flashed. "Oh…" She breathed. "You must be Laurel's boyfriend, Oliver. We've heard so much about you! I am her step-sister, Felicity," she told him with a sweet menace. She offered him her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Taking her hand, Oliver watched Felicity closely. Her hand was small and strong, the black nail polish chipped to reveal long, elegant nails. He shook her hand quickly; releasing her hand like it was burning.

"Come on, Oliver," Laurel directed. "Let's go inside." She took Oliver's arm and pulled him with her, eyeing Felicity with question at her weirdly polite attitude.

Felicity followed, a sly smile playing at her lips. She followed Laurel and Oliver closely, shutting the door behind her. Lance stood with Donna, his arm around her shoulders, at the bottom of the stairs.

"Detective Lance," Oliver greeted stiltedly. Felicity knew from prior knowledge Lance wasn't too fond of Oliver Queen but even their body language was strained. They shook hands briefly. Oliver turned to Donna who was smiling prettily. Felicity bristled when Laurel rolled her eyes.

Donna reached out, warmly taking Oliver's hand in both of hers. "It's so nice to meet you, Oliver. Laurel has said so many nice things about you!"

"Yeah," Felicity concurred, pushing away from the door and swaying around the group. "Practically **_all_** she talks about. Like some strange or **_fatal _**attraction." Felicity scrunched her nose innocently when she caught Laurel's glare.

Oliver cleared his throat, an uneasy smile spreading across his face.

"Why don't all of you go into the living room?" Donna suggested, gesturing to the open room they were all standing close to. "Dinner is almost ready. Felicity, why don't you help me?" Donna gave Felicity no room for argument as she grabbed her daughter's arm and forcefully pushed her into the kitchen.

"What has gotten into you?" Donna demanded in a hiss when she and Felicity were alone in the kitchen.

Felicity leaned casually against the counter, toying with the string of her hood. "Nothing. Why, Mom?"

Pulling some steaks from warming in the oven, Donna sent her daughter a knowing look. As she plated the steaks on a serving platter, she admonished softly, "Felicity, you need to be the bigger person and try to be nice to Laurel. This is all new to her –"

"And it's not to me?" Felicity replied testily, crossing her arms. "You act like she is the only one having to deal with this unwanted development! No one asked me if I wanted to move two states over and leave all my friends! At least **_she _**didn't have to give up her **_entire _**life!"

"Keep your voice down!" Donna hissed again, physically uncrossing Felicity's arms and shoving the serving tray into her hands. "You really want to make Laurel's life as miserable as yours? Then be nice to her. It will drive her insane. And then **_maybe _**Quentin and I will have some peace!"

"Why? Is our unhappiness interfering with you and him playing house? Wow, I'm sorry," Felicity retorted.

Donna narrowed her eyes. "Well, at least you and Laurel have something in common." She stepped around Felicity, carrying a bowl of baked asparagus and a basket of rolls. "Actually, you have more if you count how much you both hate me at the moment. Looks like the common ground just got wider, wouldn't you say?" She snapped as she breezed past.

Shame and guilt rose up in Felicity, turning her cheeks red and causing her bottom lip to quiver. Felicity was not by nature a selfish person, but she'd never thought was her mother must have been feeling having her own daughter and the step-daughter she was trying to so hard to gain acceptance from, both cursing her existence. Donna was not an insecure woman but her greatest joy came from making other people happy. It never crossed Felicity's mind that while her mother and Quentin seemed sickeningly happy with each other, her feud with Laurel was causing her mother daily pain.

"Felicity, please take that into the dining room," Donna said as she entered the kitchen again, breaking the spiral of Felicity's thoughts. Felicity waited until Donna picked up the dish of new potatoes before she followed her mother into the dining room. She stood back as Donna arranged the table, taking the serving platter from Felicity and situating it in the center of the table. Standing back, Donna gave a pleased nod. She turned and looked at Felicity, smiling at her. Reaching out, Donna cupped her daughter's cheek, seeing the apology in her eyes.

"Why don't you go save Oliver and Laurel from Quentin now?"

Felicity caught the roll of her eyes and nodded instead. She crossed the dining room and stood in the doorway of the living room. The three didn't see her right away. She stood silent for a moment, watching the interaction. Lance sat in his favorite recliner; the one he watched the news in and yelled at sports team from. Laurel and Oliver sat adjacent from him on the mauve colored love seat; Laurel's legs crossed with her arms linked through Oliver's. All three looked as if they were being tortured despite their casual posture. They seemed to have run out of things to talk about within the minute they were seated.

Laurel caught sight of her. "What?"

Felicity bit back a retort. "Mom's got dinner on the table."

Lance jumped up. "Thank goodness," he muttered. As he passed Felicity, he snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side, walking her to the dining room. Felicity swallowed as a warm and loved feeling coiled in her stomach.

Oliver excused himself to go wash his hands, assuring Laurel he remembered where the guest bathroom was. Lance and Donna seated themselves at the opposing ends of the table while Laurel squeezed between her father and the wall, seating herself so she faced out to the room. Felicity took the chair closest to her mother, a chair between her and Lance so she wouldn't have to sit directly across from Laurel.

"Looks good, sweetheart!" Lance crowed. He leaned forward. "Where should we start?"

"Why don't we wait for Oliver, Quentin?" Donna reminded pointedly.

"No need, I'm back," Oliver announced as he walked back into the room. He pointed his feet in Laurel's direction until he found a chair blocking his path. Looking down, he saw the chair Lance was holding out with an amused smile was the one between him and Felicity. Oliver cleared his throat. He glanced quickly over at Felicity. She was turned slightly away from him but he could tell by her wild eyes she knew what was happening. He looked again at Lance who was grinning broadly now.

"Have a seat!"

"Daddy –" Laurel began.

"Sure," Oliver said. "Thanks, Detective." He sat gingerly, careful not to knock elbows with the girl next to him. Seated between his girlfriend's father and her step-sister who he'd unknowingly hit on, Oliver felt his stomach roil with the awkwardness. He wanted nothing more than to get through this dinner and get out of this house. He began praying for time to speed itself up.

The conversation around the table was strained. With certain parties only speaking to certain parties, talk did not flow easily. Felicity did not speak unless she was spoken to and Laurel refused to speak unless it was to her father or Oliver. Oliver was all too aware of the girl at his side and her silent presence. It wasn't until the meal was almost over that Donna and Oliver struck up a pleasant and easy exchange.

"So, how did you and Laurel meet?" Donna asked, still laughing from a story Oliver recounted of a fight between him and his younger sister, Thea. "I don't think Quentin has ever told me."

"Our mothers volunteered at the Merlyn Clinic so we grew up together," Oliver answered.

"When did you two become an item?" Donna questioned again, her eyes dancing with the thought of a young romance.

"His parents had trouble keeping him in private schools, so they finally sentenced him to public school," Laurel finally joined the conversation, a charming smile aimed Oliver's way.

"I met Laurel and I went straight. For the most part," Oliver added at Lance's snort. "Laurel, of course, wouldn't give me the time of day."

"She had taste, then," Lance muttered darkly. Felicity caught a chuckle behind her napkin. Donna sent an admonishing glance at her husband who cleared his throat.

Oliver waited a few moments before continuing. "Our senior year of high school, we had a class trip to Belgium. I wasn't allowed to go because of a few marks on my record, but that didn't stop me. I snuck onto the plane. When we landed, I snuck out just as I had snuck on and gave myself a tour around Belgium. Of course, it completely slipped my mind that I would need a place to sleep at some point. Thankfully, I came across a small revival theater that was having an around the clock Shirley Temple marathon. I was able to charm my way in."

He looked at Laurel to pick up the thread. Felicity couldn't stop the eye roll this time.

Laurel's smile widened. Oliver was the one topic she didn't mind talking about, even to Donna. "I couldn't sleep. It was my first time being so far away from home. I snuck out of our hotel and found this theater. I went in and sat down and they were showing 'Stowaway'. I kept hearing this guy laughing, but I thought I was the only one in there. I finally found Oliver down on the front room with a box of stale popcorn in his lap."

"My mother loves Shirley Temple," Oliver interjected.

"Me, too!" Donna exclaimed happily. "I would force Felicity and her dad to watch them with me!"

"My mother has the entire collection. You should come over sometime. I know she would love to have someone else she didn't have to harangue to watch with her," Oliver offered openly before returning to his tale. "After the movie was over, we sat through another one and then the next until we fell asleep. After that, she found me irresistible," Oliver plopped the last bit of his steak into his mouth, chewing with a goofy grin.

"Would have thought younger girls were more your type," Felicity muttered next to him.

Oliver chocked at Felicity's comment, not sure if anyone else at the table heard her.

"Are you okay?" Donna asked with concern.

Oliver nodded quickly; snatching his water glass and taking great gulps to help the bits of meat stuck in his throat wash down. Felicity pressed her napkin to her mouth, her shoulders shaking with mirth. Oliver looked discreetly to his side, meeting large slate blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

Talk once again petered out until the plates were empty.

"Everyone ready for dessert?" Donna offered.

Looking for an excuse to escape from the table and the crowding feeling she felt sitting next to Oliver, Felicity jumped up. "Let me get it, Mom!" She disappeared into the kitchen before Donna could protest.

The table was quiet again.

"I'll see if she needs any help."

Laurel and Quentin snapped their heads in Oliver's direction; their faces shocked as Oliver pushed away from the table and followed Felicity into the kitchen. Lance's face remained perplexed but Laurel's face became stormy.

Walking quickly, Oliver slipped into the kitchen behind Felicity, knocking the swinging door closed that separated the room from the rest of the house nonchalantly, as if it had happened from the brush of air around him. At the sound, Felicity looked over her shoulder. She paused, her eyes widening at his presence before they narrowed and her mouth arranged itself into a sardonic smirk. She faced the fridge, opening it and pulling out a strawberry and chocolate layered trifle dish, setting it on the island as she kicked the fridge door closed with her foot.

"So," Felicity began as she began pulling some polished silverware out of a drawer next to the fridge. Turning back to Oliver, she laid a serving spoon and a few forks down on some desserts napkins, her eyes lifting up from under her shapely brows to peer at Oliver. "You got me alone, **_kid."_**

Oliver swallowed, feeling as if the food he'd choked on in the dining room was still lodged in his throat. "Look, about that," he gulped, taking a step closer, bracing his hands on the lip of the island. "I would have never…" Oliver trailed off, loath to call it 'hitting' on Felicity. Except it was exactly what he did.

"Made a complete ass of yourself?" Felicity supplied helpfully.

His jaw tightened. He was starting to sense why Laurel disliked this girl so much. He began again with measure. "I would have never approached you like that if I had known **_who_** you were."

**"****_Ooh,"_** Felicity breathed in understanding. "You mean, you wouldn't have tried to pick me up if you knew I was your girlfriend's brand new step – sister; **_not_** because you **_have_** a girlfriend. That makes it okay, then."

"That is not what I meant –"

"Then what **_did_** you mean?" Felicity spat out as she unearthed a few dessert plates from a lower cabinet and set them next to the trifle dish. "Because I have listened to her prattle on **_endlessly_** about her **_wonderful_** boyfriend for the past three months. Turns out, boyfriend is kind of a douchebag. Excuse me if I am far from impressed."

"I would really appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this to Laurel," Oliver requested from behind clenched teeth. He knew the way he treated Laurel was shameful, but to be reprimanded by a teenager was too much.

"You mean my step-sister, a.k.a. the 'Frigid Bitch'?" Felicity clarified. She got out a long wooden serving tray and began filling it with the silverware, plates and the napkins. "She wouldn't even believe me if I said anything. And why would I tell her? As far as I am concerned, she **_deserves_** you."

Oliver's mouth hung open. This grouchy, grungy girl had just insulted Laurel and him, but all he could think of was the way her gray-blue eyes seemed to churn like an angry sea. Oliver never thought of himself as a sensitive person, especially when it came to other people's feelings but there seemed to be a pain that made her words even sharper. He wasn't sure if that was his fault or if it was just aimed at anyone who was in her presence at the moment.

She picked up the trifle dish and rounded the island. She stopped beside him, the tip of her forehead barely in line with his chin. He looked down at her, the look he reserved for letting people know how far below him they sat on the societal pyramid. Instead of cowering or cutting her eyes away like most people did, Felicity shook the hair out of her face, staring out at him with her stubborn eyes.

"You gonna help?" She suggested.

Oliver heard the challenge in her voice. Plastering a fake smile on his face, he reached over and snatched the wooden serving tray into his hands.

"Good little millionaire," Felicity cooed condescendingly as Oliver followed her out of the kitchen.

* * *

><p>"You knew who she was, didn't you? And you didn't say anything!" Oliver accused crossly as he sat next to Tommy on the train. He glowered as Tommy laughed mercilessly next to him; his handsome face red and his arms hugging his sides. "You knew what I was walking into at dinner last night and you didn't say a word!"<p>

"What exactly was I supposed to say?" Tommy squeezed out between guffaws. He was even dangerously close to slapping his knee. "'Hey, Ollie, better not hit on her. Not only is she a minor but she's your girlfriend's evil step-sister.' Which one would you have listened to? And no offense, but I've learned that when you have your eye on a certain female, it's better to just let is play out the way it's gonna go. Less pain that way."

"For who? Me or you?" Oliver groused, still pouting.

Tommy sighed. "I do get a little enjoyment watching you flounder. It so rarely happens."

"Factor in the obvious disapproval you have of me cheating on Laurel…" Oliver sent a side-long glance Tommy's way. His best friend had the grace to look a tad sheepish.

The two sat in an uneasy silence as the train rumbled over the track into Starling City from their homes in the prestigious Castle Falls neighborhood. Tommy was the one who broke the silence first.

"You're my best friend, Oliver. I'll always have your back," Tommy told him with surprising warmth. "But I like Laurel. I think she is good for you and I think you are prime-time stupid for treating her the way you do."

Oliver hunched his shoulders as he slid down in the seat. "It's not like I am proud of my behavior, Tommy," Oliver muttered, fidgeting with the zipper on his puffed vest. "I don't even know why I do, honestly."

"What do you mean?"

Oliver looked over at Tommy. It was one of those rare occasions when his friend's face was serious. Oliver could tell Tommy anything and Tommy never judged him. It was from years of being the only one who understood that though their lives seemed effortless and privileged to the outside world, they had to deal with complications and expectations others never would. And it was all heightened because of the wealth and power of the world they operated in.

"It's like…" Oliver began tentatively. "It's like things are perfect and then I start feeling claustrophobic and trapped. It's like –"

"Like she expects something of you?" Tommy offered.

Oliver swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. Something I can't deliver."

"Like what? What do you think Laurel expects?" Tommy probed.

Oliver shook his head. "I don't know. I have no idea what she could expect beyond what we already have."

"Uh, maybe a future?" Tommy suggested with a 'duh' look. "We've both known Laurel since our mother's volunteered at Merlyn Clinic together. She has always been planning some part of her life in advance. And now, that future includes you. You knew this going in. Tell me you really didn't expect when you got involved with Laurel it would be a living-a-day-at-a-time deal."

"I didn't expect to be 20 years old with a lawyer-wife arguing about whose family we spend the holidays with!" Oliver exclaimed in exaggeration.

"And I am sure Laurel doesn't expect the guy she thinks is madly in love with her to be sleeping around every time he feels hemmed in by their relationship!"

"You wanna say that a little louder, Merlyn! I don't think the people in Oregon heard you!" Oliver hissed as he craned his neck around to see if there was someone they knew or a pesky paparazzi that was always dogging them within earshot.

"Oliver, tell me this. What did **_you _**expect when you and Laurel got together?" His tone held no hint of apology. In fact, it was a little hostile.

Rolling his eyes, Oliver shrugged.

"Face it, Oliver," Tommy continued. "You wanted Laurel because she was the unattainable. Laurel wouldn't give you the time of day back when we were in high school and you couldn't stand that because you always got the girl. Now that you have the girl, you don't know what to do with her. You don't know what to do with the "happily ever after" so you have to create problems."

"Is that what your therapist says?" Oliver snapped, resenting the hostility in Tommy's voice. "And what would you know about it? When was the last time you had your parents **_and _**your girlfriend breathing down your neck?"

The moment the words left Oliver's mouth he regretted them. Tommy's lips pressed into a line and pain flashed in his eyes for a moment before it was hidden safely behind his normal carefree gaze. Ever since Rebecca Merlyn had been murdered over ten years ago, Malcolm Merlyn, Robert and Moira Queen's lifelong best friend, had pulled away from his son. Tommy never mentioned his father much but Oliver knew he still smarted from his father's lack of interest in his life. It was one of the few things the two young men **_didn't _**talk about.

The train trundled to a stop and Tommy jumped up quickly, stuffing the morning paper into the chic briefcase he carried.

"Tommy, wait up!" Oliver called as he watched his best friend move hastily through the crowds to get away from him. Catching up with him, Oliver fell into step beside Tommy as they shuffled along the busy Starling City train platform. Oliver was silent until they reached the sidewalk outside the station. Tommy tried to walk a few steps ahead of him and Oliver let him, giving his friend his space. As they reached the Merlyn building where Tommy was pulling some kind of internship, Oliver finally found the nerve to speak again.

"Look, Tommy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Tommy nodded curtly without a word.

Oliver reached out and grabbed the other man's shoulder. "Tommy!"

**_"_****_What?" _**Tommy yelled, startling the nearest people in the sea of bodies rushing around them.

"Man, what is going on? I said I was sorry," Oliver huffed. He knew why Tommy was annoyed but he wasn't used to his affable pal being so touchy.

"I know you said you were sorry; it's fine. I gotta go," Tommy said coldly as he headed back toward the tall building.

Something dawned in Oliver's mind and he had a sickening feeling. "Do you have feelings for Laurel?"

It was as if an invisible wall descended and Tommy barreled right into it. He pulled up short, his back painfully straight. Turning around, his face was an unreadable mask.

"That's what it is, isn't it?" Oliver continued with a hollow voice.

Tommy didn't speak; he didn't move.

"Tommy, just be honest with me," Oliver prodded, meeting Tommy to stand right in front of the high glass windows of the Merlyn building. "Do you have feelings for Laurel?"

"I care about her," Tommy answered quietly. "I always have. But she **_chose_** you."

Oliver watched his oldest and closest friend walk away and disappear inside the modern lobby of his family's building. He stood there with his jaw loosely hanging open while people shuffled around him. What the hell was he supposed to do with this?

* * *

><p>Felicity stood before her open locker as she exchanged the books she needed in between classes. She dropped her Advanced Calculus textbook into her shoulder bag as she shelved her American Literature textbook and then slammed the door shut and then spun the lock. Hitching the bag up on her shoulder, she turned; stopping short as she almost barreled into a group of girls clustered close to her locker. Felicity gave an exasperated sigh and crossed her arms, sending the leader of the gang a look that could kill.<p>

"Don't you have something better to do, Ashley?" Felicity inquired sarcastically. "Like gazing in a mirror and admiring the beauty that is quickly slipping away to crow's feet and age spots?"

Ashley smiled a cold and charming smile as she pushed her long, dark wavy hair over her shoulder. She laughed mechanically, showing off her perfect white teeth before she settled her glittering black eyes back on Felicity.

"Me and the girls have a question," Ashley began, her voice chirping in that annoying perky manner she possessed.

Felicity rolled her eyes with a huff. Taking a big side step to the left, she gave Ashley and her goons wide berth. "Unless it's about where you can shove your brand name Mary Jane shoes, I don't have an answer."

"You are so funny!" Ashley called to Felicity's retreating back. "Actually, we were wondering how your mom paid for your tuition. Was it in stripper tips?"

Felicity halted, clenching her jaw. The hallway was slowly filling as students returned from their lunch period. A few cast glances her way, but others paid the scene no mind. She turned back to the group of four girls, Ashley at the head, an evil smirk on her face. "My mother was **_not _**a stripper."

"Really?" Ashley asked in a mocking tone, taking a few tentative steps toward Felicity. "Because the story is that Detective Lance met her in a club where she worked. In Vegas. We all know what **_really _**goes on in those clubs."

"You don't know anything, Ashley. I doubt if you could even find Vegas on a map," Felicity snarled, clutching her bag so tight her knuckles were turning white.

Ashley shrugged, only a few steps from Felicity now. "You can pretend all you want that you are one of us; that you **_belong _**here, but both of us know what you really are. Just some sad little wanna-be whose mother was lucky enough to snap up some poor schmuck stupid enough to fall for her."

Before she could stop them, tears brimmed in Felicity's eyes.

"Oooh," Ashley cooed, reaching out and tugging Felicity's loose hair harshly. "Did I make the 'ittle baby cry?" Twitter of giggles came from Ashley's posse.

Without any rational thought, Felicity's hand flew to Ashley's wrist, twisting it violently until the girl released her hair with a whimper. More glances than before came their way and other students slowed, watching the interaction between the two girls closely.

"Next time you touch me, I will break it!" Felicity spat as she bore down and put more pressure on Ashley's wrist, watching tears spring in the other girl's eyes. "Looks like working in a club will teach you a thing or two." She released Ashley's wrist and her eyes widened a little at her action when she saw the red welt rising on the girl's pale skin. She opened her mouth to apologize.

**_"_****_Bitch!"_** Ashley screamed, catching the attention of a school security guard down the hallway. "You wait until my father hears about this, you little slut!"

Felicity backed away with a pounding heart until she finally turned and ran, knocking a few of the other students who had gathered at the commotion out of her way. She flew past students, teachers and administrators, unheeding on their calls or orders to stop. All she knew was she needed to get out of there; she needed to breathe. As she ran, the tears finally broke and streamed down her face. She hit the door with the heel of her palms and raced out. She didn't stop running until she'd circled the block. Arriving at a neighborhood park, Felicity collapsed on a bench, sobbing loudly with her head between her knees.

She hated it here! She hated the private school she'd been forced to attend. She hated the house she was forced to live in. She hated the two adults who pretended they cared about her existence. She hated those who made her feel more inferior than she ever had in Vegas. Even here, under the banner of a new start, she couldn't escape the humiliation of having a mother who worked in a gentlemen's lounge. Her breaths came in harsh gasps as she fought to calm down. After several moments, Felicity sat up, pushing the hair out of her face. She looked around and then down at her watch. Pushing herself up off the bench, Felicity began walking in the direction of home. Both Lance and her mother would be out and she could have some time to herself. And to craft an explanation of her behavior if Ashley made good on her threat to tell her father about what Felicity had done. In her defense, Ashley had made the first move.

As she walked down the sidewalk, tears still fell slowly. Felicity couldn't stop them. She didn't try. So wrapped up in her own emotions, she barely heard her name being called. It wasn't until a hand clasped her shoulder that Felicity spun around with a surprised yelp.

"Hey," Oliver Queen greeted hesitantly yet jovially.

Felicity continued to look at him with confusion, the sun shining down and making his blonde hair sparkle slightly. "What do you want?" She looked around. She was outside of the coffee shop where she worked; where she'd first met the guy standing in front of her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder still.

"I saw you walking and I was going to see –" Oliver broke off and furrowed his brows. "Felicity, are you crying? What's wrong?"

There was genuine concern in his eyes and Felicity folded her arms in closer to her. He was one of them, though. How could he understand? And why did he even care? He was everything she hated about Starling City rolled into one person. Rich, influential, **_perfect. _**

Shaking off his comforting hand, Felicity threw up her hands. "Just… Just leave me alone," she sighed tiredly.

"Felicity, look, let me at least give you a ride –"

"No!" Felicity exclaimed, causing Oliver to snap his mouth shut and stare at her. She held his gaze boldly, for once not bothering to hide the pain and anger she held inside. "Go find your perfect Laurel and go live in your perfect world. I can take care of myself."

And without looking back, Felicity turned on her heel and left a stunned Oliver gaping on the sidewalk after her.


End file.
